[Those exploratory touches kindle the flame in him, burning bright as he's peeled out of clothing and exposed to the cooler air of the room, flushed at the first seal of a mouth over his nipple — and then breath stutters at the trade of attention to the other, sensitivity pricking in a hot chill. The way Cy handles him is reverent enough to put him into his own body in a way he's unaccustomed. Not in his head, not living from the leap of thought to thought. And the caress to the blunt end of his left arm, an area so emotionally significant and so strictly untouched, coaxes a full exhalation from lungs. A sigh deep enough to bleed his soul between them.
That bite lingers in a dull throb as he's redirected, compliant, unashamed in this state of undress before Cy's eyes by now. With anyone else, this subservient of a position would scorch a path of humiliation through him, but here he feels only a flicker of embarrassment as he positions his weight across Cy's thigh with his left side faced inward. Reflexively his right hand comes out to brace on the bed. The color of attraction shows on his skin, pale pink, unable to resist even the clinical hand between his legs as it tucks his balls protectively under. There's no deliberate enticement, but Cy is a natural aphrodisiac to his mental and physical state — so it is with awareness he feels his cock twitch, interest pooling in a pulse of aroused blood.
Cy is speaking to him, so he grasps at focus. A hand obligingly takes the bell, cupping his palm around it to the soft, metallic jingle it makes, memories falling back to one of his most significant exercises on the practice field as a new genin. It's an unreal comparison, in that moment, between past and present.]
No questions. [Thighs clench together as urged in a flex of strong muscle. His back, too, forms a better arch. The aftermath is too far to look ahead — he'll face it when they get there, inexplicable trust in Cy to have prepared for anything. In another place, in someone else's hands, he would not have even thought of that fallout. But then he likely wouldn't be here bent over a man's lap at all.] I don't know how I want to put my arm yet, so I'll leave it where it is for now. On the bed.
[What becomes more prominent in his mind is how restricted it is to have his legs pinned behind the knee, to have his ass pushed upward. What does it look like in Cy's eyes? And beneath it is that force of lust almost against his own naked will, kicked alive by Cy's description of safewords and struggling. Not for here, a first experience, but — eventually.]
no subject
That bite lingers in a dull throb as he's redirected, compliant, unashamed in this state of undress before Cy's eyes by now. With anyone else, this subservient of a position would scorch a path of humiliation through him, but here he feels only a flicker of embarrassment as he positions his weight across Cy's thigh with his left side faced inward. Reflexively his right hand comes out to brace on the bed. The color of attraction shows on his skin, pale pink, unable to resist even the clinical hand between his legs as it tucks his balls protectively under. There's no deliberate enticement, but Cy is a natural aphrodisiac to his mental and physical state — so it is with awareness he feels his cock twitch, interest pooling in a pulse of aroused blood.
Cy is speaking to him, so he grasps at focus. A hand obligingly takes the bell, cupping his palm around it to the soft, metallic jingle it makes, memories falling back to one of his most significant exercises on the practice field as a new genin. It's an unreal comparison, in that moment, between past and present.]
No questions. [Thighs clench together as urged in a flex of strong muscle. His back, too, forms a better arch. The aftermath is too far to look ahead — he'll face it when they get there, inexplicable trust in Cy to have prepared for anything. In another place, in someone else's hands, he would not have even thought of that fallout. But then he likely wouldn't be here bent over a man's lap at all.] I don't know how I want to put my arm yet, so I'll leave it where it is for now. On the bed.
[What becomes more prominent in his mind is how restricted it is to have his legs pinned behind the knee, to have his ass pushed upward. What does it look like in Cy's eyes? And beneath it is that force of lust almost against his own naked will, kicked alive by Cy's description of safewords and struggling. Not for here, a first experience, but — eventually.]